


Master of None

by wightfaerie



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Foursome - M/M/M/M, Heavy BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-26
Updated: 2013-05-26
Packaged: 2017-12-13 00:56:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/818066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wightfaerie/pseuds/wightfaerie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>BDSM foursome between David Starsky/Huggy Bear/Dryden with a Hutch sub</p>
            </blockquote>





	Master of None

MASTER OF NONE

Saturday, May 9, 1981

Hutch knelt in the doorway of the cabin he shared with Starsky in the San Gabriel mountains watching Huggy and Dryden push the furniture to the edges of the large living room.

Starsky walked in from the bedroom, struggling to carry the three heavy collapsible 'A' frames that lived under the bed. Leaning them against the wall, he disappeared back into the bedroom, emerging a few minutes later with a folding work table.

Huggy strode across the room. "Want a hand, my brother?" he asked Starsky.

Starsky nodded, grunting his need for assistance.

Huggy grabbed the folded wood and laminate top, holding it while Starsky opened the 'A' frames and set them an equal distance away from each other. He pulled the unhinged end of the top apart, and laid it flat on the frames. Starsky checked that the base was slotted into the grooves of the thick wooden top.

Hutch surveyed the activity with his usual excitement, amused that he wasn't allowed to help. The three guys had gotten together for one of their play sessions. He recalled how the unusual arrangement had started. 

^^^

He and Starsky had been planning a weekend session at Dobey's cabin in The Pits one night. 

"You want some company?" Huggy had asked, having overheard part of their conversation. "I could do with a few days of fishing."

"Not that sort of weekend," Starsky said, winking at Huggy.

"Oh. Comprende," Huggy said, winking back at Starsky. He was well aware of their alternative private lifestyle. 

In fact, he and Hutch had played together for a while, years ago, before Starsky and the Academy. Huggy had been Hutch's first friend when he moved to Bay City. Some girlfriend, Hutch couldn't even remember her name anymore, had dragged Hutch to an underground fetish club that she'd heard about. Huggy and his lady friend had immediately taken the new couple under their wings. The ladies were long gone, but Huggy remained in Hutch's life.

"Haven't had one of those weekends in a long time," Huggy said wistfully, staring into space.

Hutch had assumed he meant that the two of them hadn't played together for a long time. Huggy rarely abstained from any activity he enjoyed. He merely found someone else to share it with.

Hutch looked at Starsky. 

Starsky knew all about Huggy and Hutch's past dalliances. Starsky nodded.

"Join us," Hutch said, double checking Starsky's expression to make sure that they were on the same page.

Huggy glanced from Starsky to Hutch and back again. "Yeah?" he asked, sounding unsure that he had heard right.

"Yeah," Starsky said. "I like a bit of variety."

^^^ 

There had been no doubt who would submit that weekend. Hutch was already Starsky's sub. Although, Hutch and Huggy had switched in their play in the past.

Starsky and Huggy had Hutch bound to the bed, when the outer door of the cabin burst open.

"I know you're in here, Hutchinson," Dryden had shouted, stomping around in the main room. "I followed you here with Starsky and that dodgy looking dude."

Fuck. Dryden had been on Hutch's back ever since Vanessa was killed in his living room with his gun. Now they were definitely in trouble. I.A. would have a field day with this one. Starsky and Hutchinson, not just queer for each other, but kinky and into threesomes as well.

Starsky jumped up and ran to the door, too late.

Dryden rushed through the open bedroom door. "Shit," he mumbled, disbelief on his face as he stared at the three naked men. He walked closer, eyes transfixed on the bed. "Well, this is not at all what I expected," he said, almost leering at Hutch. 

"What the hell are you doing here, Dryden?" Starsky stepped in between him and the bed, obviously deciding to fight fire with fire.

"My job." Dryden looked down at Starsky. "I knew one of you would screw up eventually and I intended to be there when you did."

"You had no right following us around in our free time," Hutch said, struggling against his bonds. It was hard to counter attack when he couldn't stand up and defend himself. His argument was pretty weak. Dryden had caught them doing something illegal. It didn't matter whose time it was on, and now he'd hang them both out to dry. 

Huggy sidled along the wall and out of the room.

"I guess you're gonna enjoy taking us down, won't ya?" Starsky straightened to his full height, trying to get into Dryden's face. "Get your ass out of here while you can."

Hutch cringed. Jeez, Starsk. Antagonize the man, why don't you? Any other time, Hutch would have done the same, but he was definitely compromised at the moment.

Dryden merely looked over Starsky's head. "This is the first time that I've noticed how much you remind me of my old sparring partner," he said to Hutch. "Stevie's tall, blond and handsome, but somewhat stockier than you. We used to play around." Dryden tugged at the rope securing Hutch's left ankle to the bed post. "Before I was drafted into I.A." 

"Do I?" Hutch answered, not sure what else to say. This had to be the worst situation he had ever found himself in. At least he had been innocent of all charges on his last brush with I.A. Well, except for leaving Dryden cuffed to his kitchen table and evading arrest. He swallowed when he saw the wistful look in Dryden's eyes. 

"Yes." Dryden licked his lips and looked at Starsky. "I can see why you two strapped him down. He just begs for it."

"What the hell do you mean by that remark?" Hutch said. Dryden was pissing him off. Why wasn't Starsky making any attempt to untie him? He felt like a piece of meat on a platter in all his naked glory waiting to be bought and eaten. 

"You want to join us, Dryden?" Starsky had asked, with a speculative expression.

"Starsky!" Hutch protested. He couldn't believe that Starsky was offering him up to their arch enemy. 

Starsky glanced over his shoulder at Hutch. 

Hutch immediately understood Starsky's silent message. He can't bring us down if he's in with us. Could Hutch submit his body to Dryden to save his and Starsky's skin? How was it any different to an undercover assignment? He'd nodded his consent to Starsky. He was sure he could compromise himself just this once.

Dryden smiled. "Not quite the way I'd planned on nailing your ass, Hutchinson." He shrugged out of his suit jacket. "But it's certainly going to be more entertaining than my last attempt. I'm not the one restrained this time."

^^^

Except it hadn't been that one time. Since that day, whenever their schedules synchronized, they'd all headed for the cabin that Starsky and Hutch had bought. 

The day Dryden burst in on them made it clear how risky it was doing those sessions in their boss' cabin. They couldn't have the Dobeys walking in on their private arrangement. The cabin was rustic and private, but only an hour away from Bay City, exactly what they needed for their trysts.

These sessions were the only time that Starsky and Hutch allowed anyone else into their otherwise monogamous relationship. Huggy was their closest friend, their confidante. Somehow, Dryden had become a good friend and ally. Although, he never treated them any differently at work. 

Starsky and Hutch were one hundred percent sure that neither man would ever jeopardize their friendship by revealing the secret foursome. What happened in the cabin belonged in a different world.

Grunting from the other side of the room dragged Hutch back into the present. He watched Starsky, Huggy and Dryden setting up the 'madman' as Starsky liked to call their creation. Hutch waited patiently as Starsky checked the table they'd just set up. 

Obviously satisfied that all was good, he glanced over at Hutch. "We're ready for ya now, little lamb."

Hutch smirked. Like a lamb to the slaughter. A very happy, willing lamb going to the most pleasurable slaughter, in his opinion anyway. He shrugged quickly out of his clothing, folding them neatly and placing the pile on the trunk next to the door. Half a dozen steps and he was by Starsky's side. Hutch was the only naked person in the cabin, as was the norm.

"Make yourself comfortable." Starsky gestured towards the table.

Huggy and Dryden watched the proceedings, respectfully letting Starsky take the lead because he was Hutch's Master.

Hutch slid his butt to the middle of the laminated surface, flinching a little at the coldness underneath him. It would soon warm up and it was easier to clean than a cloth surface. He lay down, wiggling until he felt as comfortable as was possible.

"Okay?" Starsky asked. He pulled a blindfold from his shirt pocket.

"Fine," Hutch said. He blew a kiss to Starsky. 

Starsky's grin was the last thing Hutch saw before Starsky tugged the mask over Hutch's eyes. "You know the drill, men, Starsky said.

Those five words made Hutch's nerve endings fizz into action. Although he knew what was coming next, he had to wait for Starsky's say so.

"Reach," Starsky directed Hutch, sounding more like a cop than his lover.

Hutch stretched his arms over his head and spread his legs at the same time. Hands grabbed his limbs, securing his wrists and ankles with the leather straps that were riveted onto the four corners of the table. Padlocks clicked into place. Hutch tested the restraints. The straps were just loose enough to twist around, but no way could he get free. The straps allowed very little movement, otherwise.

Starsky and Hutch had built most of the equipment they used in their sessions, and all the restraints were placed specifically to Hutch's measurements.

Starsky had decided to rivet the straps to the wood, rather than using clips, rings and chains. He liked Hutch securely immobilized.

"Thighs next," Starsky said.

Hutch found Starsky's stage direction very funny. He really took his role seriously. Straps circled Hutch's lower thighs, further restricting his movement.

"Almost there," Starsky said, kissing Hutch lightly on the lips.

I know. I was there when we built it. Not that Hutch would ever say that to Starsky. It was sweet how Starsky always made Hutch aware of where in the scheme of things they were. A belt tightened around Hutch's hips. He struggled against the bonds. He loved Starsky restraining him so that he couldn't move. It made him feel safe, cosseted and loved. 

"Last one," Starsky informed him.

Starsky fastened a strap over Hutch's forehead. Total and utter confinement. Hutch sighed contentedly.

As soon as Hutch's imprisonment was complete, he was no longer allowed human contact. He heard the very different breathing patterns of his playmates and imagined them staring at his prostrate form. His cock hardened even more than it had been at the start of the binding. The solid leather against his skin grounded him, gave him a sense of stability.

"My captive angel," Starsky whispered in his ear. Then he said louder, "You look good enough to eat."

"Oh, man. You know I can't wait to get my hands on Mr. America," Huggy said, clapping his hands together.

"Starsky," Dryden said. "Less talk, more action." 

"Yes, Mr. I.A. man" Starsky responded. 

Hutch suspected that Starsky probably had saluted Dryden at the same time. The rebellious side of Starsky still couldn't resist getting under the guy's skin.

Hutch tensed his body in anticipation. It seemed like ages passed before Hutch felt the first touch on his right arm. Even not being able to see, Hutch was aware of who was touching him.

Strong fingertips caressed from his wrist to his shoulder, up and down the soft skin of his inner arm, leaving short-lived trails of sensation in their wake. Dryden. 

In contrast, thinner, bony fingertips mirrored the action on his left arm. The touch was lighter, leaving a longer lasting tingling on his skin. Huggy.

Hutch hitched a breath when the caresses continued under his arms and down his sides. He giggled, "Ticklish."

Huggy and Dryden maintained their relentless stroking of Hutch's sensitive torso. 

Hutch's nerve endings went into overdrive. He laughed. "Ticklish," he gasped again.

The barrage persisted, faster, slower, stroking, kneading, at Hutch's skin. His laughter sounded hysterical to his ears. He writhed against the attack, attempting to move his body away from the torturous fingers. 

Starsky's fingernails scratched up and down Hutch's inner thighs.

The slight discomfort drew Hutch's attention away from the tickling. "Harder," he said.

In response to Hutch's request, Starsky did the opposite. He ran his fingertips gently over the skin, stopping just short of Hutch's balls. 

Simultaneously, like a choreographed dance, Huggy and Dryden latched onto Hutch's nipples.

Huggy sucked, flicked and nipped the hard bud.

Dryden chewed gently on the nub, then licked the areole.

Hutch shoved his chest against the two mouths. "Yes, yes," he encouraged. There was nothing like having both nipples sucked at the same time. His chest tightened as the pain pinged across the gap, joining both nipples with an imaginary line of pleasure.

Starsky squeezed Hutch's balls hard, crushing them harshly in his hand.

"Ooohhh." Hutch almost hyperventilated. His world shrunk to the triangle of pain and pleasure--each point joined, nipples and genitals.

Starsky licked Hutch's cock, flicking under and around the head, teasing Hutch's slit with the tip of his tongue, poking as far in as it would go.

Hutch bucked at the unexpected pleasure. The hip strap dug into his pelvic bone. He fought against his bonds. The pressure from the solid leather mixed with the biting and squeezing throwing his sensitive nerve endings into overdrive. His body skyrocketed.

Starsky engulfed Hutch's penis, deep throating him in one smooth movement.

"God. Oh, God," Hutch cried as Starsky moved his warm, moist mouth and teeth up and down Hutch's erection. All threads with reality broke. His brain submitted to the onslaught. Myriad emotions flew around his body. His balls constricted. Cold air hit his wet dick.

"Don't come," Starsky warned.

Hutch screamed his disappointment when he realized that Starsky was no longer sucking him off. His orgasm teetered on the precipice where Starsky had left it. 

"Later, little lamb," Starsky said softly.

Obviously taking their cue from Starsky, Dryden and Huggy ceased their nipple play, gently licking each nub and areole to signal the end. 

Hutch grunted his indignation when he felt Starsky tie his balls and cock with a leather thong. The cord was wrapped around the base of his rod and around each ball, separating them, stretching the skin to create two polished spheres. Starsky's signature.

Starsky blew on Hutch's cock head, licking off the pre-cum that had leaked. "Time out, little lamb," Starsky said jovially.

"Later, blondie," Huggy said.

"Bastards," Hutch said, keeping his tone light and friendly to show that he didn't mean the word in its usual context. 

"Language," Dryden reprimanded. 

Their footsteps moving away echoed on the wooden floorboards.

Hutch lay, his throbbing cock standing to attention, bound but not strangled. Starsky was an expert at cock binding. The feeling of his impending orgasm receded some. He suddenly felt very lonely, bereft and vulnerable after the intensity of the romp.

He listened to the noises around him. A tap was turned on. The clink of glass against metal. The hiss of gas. The pop of a flame igniting the burner.

Fingers ran through Hutch's hair. "Drink this water, babe." Starsky inserted a straw into Hutch's mouth. 

Hutch sucked slowly, sloshed the water around his mouth and swallowed carefully, making sure that he did not choke himself in his horizontal position. 

"Half an hour," Starsky said. "One of us will be watching you the whole time."

Hutch nodded, drinking a little more before spitting the straw out of his mouth. "Love you, Starsk."

"Love you, too, buddy." Starsky ruffled Hutch's hair. "Relax."

The smell of boiling coffee permeated Hutch's nostrils. Laughter and jokes reached his ears. His friends were only a few feet away. It didn't matter that he was totally helpless, no harm would come to him. He was certain of that. He trusted Starsky, Huggy and Dryden implicitly. He wouldn't submit to them if he didn't. 

This was his time. Hutch drifted away from the cabin, from real life and all its shackles. He sank into his subspace. A tropical beach, just for him and Starsky.

^^^ 

"Wakey, wakey, little lamb," Starsky crooned in Hutch's ear.

Hutch yawned, stretching his stiff muscles. Awareness that he was no longer restrained forced him fully awake. Light stabbed at his eyes--no blindfold.

Starsky massaged Hutch's shoulders. "Want more water before we start with you again?" He wiggled his eyebrows at Hutch. 

Dryden walked into the small bathroom. 

Huggy rummaged around in his bowling bag on the kitchen counter. A bag that Hutch had seen used for many things, but never for a bowling ball.

"No. I'm good. Don't want to overload the bladder." Hutch rubbed his belly, just above his bound genitals. 

Starsky produced a cock ring, pushing it to the root of Hutch's cock. "Gonna make you more comfortable." He unfastened the leather thong. 

Hutch's ball sac swung free. He groaned at the tingling. "Sadist," he accused.

"Masochist," Starsky countered.

"Always," Hutch acquiesced, sitting up and dangling his legs over the side. The cock ring pinched less than the thong when he moved.

"When you're ready, bend over the middle of the table," Starsky instructed.

Dryden came back into the room and walked over to Huggy in the kitchen area. 

Starsky held up two fingers to them.

Hutch slid off the table, turned around and bent over, his torso flat to the wood. He adjusted his genitals to avoid mangling them on the edge of the table. The center 'A' frame supported his weight.

"Are you going to keep still or do I have to tie you?" Starsky asked, though he probably knew what Hutch's response would be. He scrubbed circles on Hutch's buttocks, then gently slapped the fleshy mounds.

Hutch squirmed under Starsky's petting. More of this, please. Instead, he said a little breathlessly, "Bind me." He really was a bondage addict. Handing over control to the others, and Starsky in particular, was a bigger turn on than he had imagined it would be. The older he got, the more he relished the release of the tension caused by the job. BDSM gave him that liberation.

Starsky snagged some rope from the kitchen drawer.

Huggy tied Hutch's left ankle to one side of the frame.

Dryden tied the other ankle. 

Starsky bound Hutch's wrists together behind his back.

Hutch was like a puppet letting everyone pull his strings and enjoying every minute of it. Adrenaline pumped through his body. 

Dryden blindfolded Hutch again.

Huggy grabbed Hutch's ass, parting his cheeks with his thumbs. 

Starsky's finger breached Hutch's sphincter, immediately followed by a second finger, scissoring and stretching his anus.

Hutch shoved back against his lover's digits.

Starsky finger-fucked him for a short while, removing his fingers slowly.

Hutch whimpered, wanting Starsky back inside him. 

Huggy's long, thin sheathed shaft replaced Starsky's delicate fingers. Huggy always used a condom. He hadn't yet settled down, and still took multiple partners, male and female. He made it a rule not to take risks with anyone's health, including his own.

"Open your mouth, little lamb," Starsky said. He nipped at Hutch's neck, licking and blowing onto the wet skin. 

Hutch shivered and lifted his head, opening his mouth.

Dryden's big hands gripped either side of Hutch's face, guiding him into position. Dryden's thick phallus filled Hutch's mouth. He tasted soap and guffawed around the obstruction. Dryden always washed directly before oral sex. At least, with Hutch anyway.

Hutch should have felt humiliated being fucked in the mouth by the I.A. guy and up the ass by his friend. Instead, he could honestly say he loved being plugged in both orifices. When both men thrust in at the same time, he was sure that they were meeting in the middle.

Dryden's circumcised head stabbed at Hutch's tonsils with every plunge. Hutch was grateful that he didn't gag easily.

At the same time, Huggy's cock grazed Hutch's prostate gland and poked his bowel.

Being used like this shouldn't feel so good. Hey, what the hell did it matter? Everyone was having fun, Hutch reasoned. He was sick of the inner Hutchinson telling him what was moral and what was immoral. His conscience could just shut up and take a holiday. 

"Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful," Starsky said. "Such a good little lamb. So obedient." He fondled Hutch's back and arms. "I am so proud of you."

A warm glow spread through Hutch's body at his Master's praise. Not many people would understand why a strong, take control cop would allow himself to be dominated by other men. Correction, by his friends. Submission gave Hutch back the peace he lost in his working day. Being restrained by his lover and trusted buddies took away his need to be in charge of every situation. Let him recharge his batteries, so to speak.

Dryden's urgent thrusting slowed, then stilled. A second later, he pulled out of Hutch's mouth. Dryden never came inside Hutch. He once admitted to Hutch that he told himself by not ejaculating in Hutch's mouth or taking him anally helped him maintain a certain impartiality on the job. Whatever worked for the man was fine with Hutch.

Huggy plowed harder into Hutch, his balls slapping against Hutch's. Huggy buried himself deep and grunted, shuddering from his orgasm. 

Hutch's orgasm built as the heat of Huggy's semen warmed his insides. However, the cock ring thwarted any attempt at relief. He knew better than to beg Starsky to release him. He had bestowed Starsky with his chastity on Starsky's last birthday and could only come when Starsky let him.

Huggy slumped onto Hutch, resting for a short while before pushing himself up. His softened member popped out of Hutch's hole. The toilet flushed. Disposal of the evidence, a used condom.

Starsky freed Hutch's ankles, lifting him carefully upright. 

Hutch hissed at the crack of his hip joints and the blood rushing back into his legs. 

Starsky rubbed Hutch's numb lower half. "Stand still until you get your sea legs," Starsky joked.

Hutch swayed slightly, waiting for the mobility to come back into his legs. His bound arms and the blindfold didn't help his disorientation. 

Starsky guided Hutch forward. "It's me and thee now, little one. I think that we'll be more cozy in the bedroom.

Hutch walked forward and his shins hit the side of the bed. 

"Because you've been so good, I am going to let you pick how I fuck you senseless."

Hutch's groin twitched. "You are such a charmer, David Michael Starsky," he said sarcastically.

"That's why you love me," Starsky said. He ripped the blindfold from Hutch's eyes.

Hutch blinked automatically, and pointlessly. The room was dim, the only light filtering in from the living room.

"Back or front?" Starsky asked. He stroked the side of Hutch's face.

"Front, Master," Hutch said immediately. He desired the intimacy that facing each other gave.

Starsky reached for the rope tying Hutch's wrists.

Hutch twisted away. "Leave them tied."

Starsky raised his eyebrows. "That's gonna hurt."

"I don't care," Hutch said. Once his arms had gone numb, it wouldn't be a problem until he was untied. He sat on the bed. He wanted to watch Starsky have total control over his body. Shuffling to the middle of the bed, he lay on his back and arms, his palms flat on the mattress. 

Starsky whipped off his own clothing. Kneeling on the bed between Hutch's legs, he placed Hutch's ankles on his shoulders. Starsky lubricated his cock and Hutch's ass before pushing inside. With one swift lunge, Starsky was engulfed up to the hilt in Hutch's already stretched canal.

Hutch gasped at the quick entry, more from surprise than pain. He quickly adjusted to Starsky's thicker girth.

Starsky pummeled Hutch's backside mercilessly, delivering the promised 'fucking him senseless'.

Hutch matched Starsky's primal battering of his butt, keeping perfect rhythm with the beast topping him. Starsky's erection scrubbed Hutch's prostate with every plunge, in and out.

Hutch was sure he was going to explode into a million pieces. His genitals pulsated with need. His balls were heavy, but he couldn't quite reach the end of the rainbow. Damn cock ring, damn Starsky, damn world, he ranted silently, not meaning a word of his blasphemous thoughts. He wouldn't have his life any other way. 

Starsky stilled, his groin pushed tight to Hutch's crack. Starsky plucked off Hutch's cock ring. "Come for me, babe," he growled.

Hutch didn't need to be told twice. 

He and Starsky jumped off the bridge hand in hand, or rather cock in ass. Their simultaneous climaxes culminated in loud screams.

"Huuutch."

"Starskyyy."

Hutch spurted his semen all over Starsky's torso.

Starsky filled Hutch's insides with his juices. He collapsed onto Hutch, the sticky come squelching between their bellies.

Hutch managed to buck Starsky off and rolled onto his side. "Starsk. Can you please untie me?" His hands were numb and the rope was starting to dig into his wrists.

Starsky lethargically tugged at the rope, loosening it enough for Hutch to work his hands free.

Huggy appeared in the doorway. "Thought you might need this." He threw a washcloth at Starsky.

"Thanks." Starsky caught the rag and placed it on the nightstand while he massaged life back into Hutch's arms.

Hutch slowly brought his arms forward. Reviving numb limbs was the worst part of being trussed up. His shoulders hurt from the strain of being held back for so long.

Starsky cleaned them both before pulling Hutch into a bear hug and planting a kiss on the end of his nose in the process. "Turn over," he said, releasing his grip.

Hutch turned his back to Starsky.

Starsky spooned with Hutch, his soft penis nestling in Hutch's crack. "Rest, little one. Huggy will let us know when the food is ready."

Hutch pressed back against Starsky's firm body, happily dozing in his partner's embrace.

Dryden and Huggy's voices cut into Hutch's stupor occasionally. The sounds of activity and smells of cooking drifted on through the otherwise silent cabin. 

Hutch sighed, a man content with his lot. This was the plus side to their strange arrangement. Being worshipped, sexually sated, his every need taken care of. The rest of the time, he had Starsky by his side, day and night, at home and at work. He dared the bigots to defile his happiness. He had what most people craved, and a whole lot more.

^^^ 

"Food's ready," Huggy's voice grated into Hutch's slumber. 

Barely opening his eyes, Hutch pushed back against Starsky's front, grinding his ass into Starsky's groin.

Starsky nipped Hutch's shoulder. "Dinner," he said, his mouth pressed against Hutch's skin at the base of his neck. 

"Not hungry," Hutch said. He snuggled further under the covers. He was too fulfilled to move. Wanted to stay cocooned in bed with Starsky all night.

The warmth left Hutch's body. A resounding slap hit his right buttock. Shit. He jolted awake. 

Quick as a flash, Starsky flipped Hutch onto his belly and smacked his left cheek just as hard as the right. "You will do as you are told, little lamb," Starsky said menacingly. "Don't forget to get dressed."

Fuck. Hutch had forgotten that he hadn't been released from his slavery. He didn't wear the collar that he wore in his sessions with Starsky. "Yes, Master." Hutch immediately jumped out of bed. He grabbed the black silk boxers that were lying on the chair next to him and tugged them up his legs. He had two outfits when in a session--the silk boxers for meals and relaxing and his birthday suit for playing. The fabric was soft and cool against his stinging ass. Starsky could hurt more with one slap than with a dozen when he wanted to. Hutch desperately needed more. He craved Starsky taking him over his knee and spanking him. The demands of their job meant that their private sessions, and these foursomes, were becoming less frequent.

"Good boy," Starsky muttered.

Hutch stood and watched as Starsky hauled his jeans up over his delectable ass. Hutch licked his lips, wantonly fondling himself in front of his Master. He would be disciplined for being so bold and disrespectful, but he didn't care. Starsky had the most amazing body Hutch had ever seen. The passing of years hadn't diminished his lust for his lover's dark, hairy form.

Starsky pulled on a t-shirt. "When you're finished," he said, hands on hips, staring at Hutch.

Hutch looked Starsky straight in the eyes. Might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb. "Ready when you are," he said confidently, thrusting his hips forward. 

Starsky's expression was a mixture of amusement and exasperation. His lips were pursed tightly, but his eyes sparkled. He was obviously aware of Hutch's game. "Move," he said assertively.

"Okay," Hutch drawled. He stalked past Starsky, brushing his fingers against the slight bulge in Starsky's jeans.

Starsky merely growled. He grabbed Hutch's hand, stopping him in his tracks. "Behave," Starsky warned.

"Always." Hutch smirked at Starsky. Oh, yes. The fire in Starsky's eyes held great promise. When they were alone, Hutch would show Starsky how naughty he could be. Another flick of finger on denim and Hutch walked out of the bedroom. 

There were four place settings on the central island counter in the kitchen. Dryden's touch. There was a certain formality about the man. Not many cops wore a bowtie to work, I.A. or otherwise. 

"Sit," Huggy said, placing plates laden with food onto each mat. 

Hutch sat gingerly on the wooden bar stool. His butt was still a little tender from their earlier play. "Smells good, Hug," he said, breathing in the aroma of the lightly cooked tuna steak, boiled wild brown rice and salad. 

Huggy was the perfect chef and indulged Hutch's preferences, even when it meant cooking two different meals. Although, being a restaurateur, it was all in day's work for Huggy. 

Dryden served the drinks. Water for Hutch and a spritzer, with far more soda than white wine, for Starsky, Huggy and himself. It was just one more way to show the difference between Hutch and his Doms.

Starsky swung his leg over his stool. "That sure looks good," he said, eyeing his plate of T-bone steak, Cajun potatoes and salad.

Hutch looked at Starsky's well cooked steak with disgust . He was the only person Hutch knew that 'liked his meat dead' as Starsky put it. Steak should be served rare to medium rare, not burnt to a crisp. Hutch had tried eating like Starsky a few years back. It had left him bloated and lethargic. Now, he managed a diet somewhere between the two extremes of health food freak and junk food addict.

"Grace," Dryden said, when Starsky picked up his fork.

"If we must," Starsky said, waving his fork in the air. 

Dryden drew in a breath, clasped his hands and bowed his head. "For what we are about to receive, may the Lord make us truly thankful. Amen."

Hutch bowed his head, mouthing the words that Dryden said. "Amen," he said aloud, glancing sideways at Starsky.

Starsky's mouth twitched. He winked at Hutch. "Amen," he said when Dryden had finished.

"Aaaa-men," Huggy echoed. "Dig in before it gets cold." He had never been one for formalities the whole time that Hutch had known him. However, he indulged Dryden's little foibles, just as they all did. It was weird how they'd bonded so quickly into a group with a healthy respect for each person's wishes and rituals. Dryden was the last person Hutch would have ever thought he'd be able to call a friend, but outside of work that was what they had become, friends and more.

Dryden had professional conflicts with what they were doing, as did Starsky and Hutch, but Dryden was in a far more precarious position. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to break away. Dryden had told Hutch on a previous occasion that he was like a drug. Hutch understood the pull of addiction. 

Starsky was the first to attack his meal, as usual. "This tastes as good as I thought it would," he said with a mouthful of meat. 

Any other time, Hutch would have called Starsky an animal for talking with his mouth full. Even though Hutch did the same thing himself, he loved ragging on Starsky's eating habits.

"Of course, it does," Huggy said, not very modestly. He was confident in everything he did. 

Conversation stopped for a time, while they polished off the food.

Hutch ate his tuna and salad, picking at his rice. Too many carbohydrates could give him cramps later, but he needed some for stamina.

The meal finished with, Huggy scraped the leftover food into the trash can next to the sink. He piled the plates into the sink. 

"Leave the dishes," Starsky said. "Hutch can do them in the morning."

Hutch glared at Starsky, biting his tongue so that he didn't tell Starsky to shove the dishes up his ass. 

Starsky leered at Hutch. "I've got a plan for tonight." He turned to Dryden. "You staying, or do you need to get back?" Dryden didn't always stay the full session. It depended on what poor slob had caught I.A.'s attention that week.

"I'm staying. I'm off the schedule for today. Simonetti thinks I'm visiting my mom." He looked at Starsky. "I'll be leaving early tomorrow morning. Got an early meeting."  
"Whose head's in the noose this week?" Starsky asked.

"All you need to know is that it's not yours," Dryden replied, digging at his teeth with a toothpick.

Starsky got the Monopoly box from the cupboard in the living room. He handed a dice to Hutch. "Throw a six and we play Monopoly. Throw any other number and we play you."

Hutch had a five in six chance of striking out. His stomach clenched at the way Starsky had stacked the odds against him. God, he adored his devious buddy. Hutch took the dice, turning it over in his hand, stopping on the six. He thumbed the indentation of each dot, then cupped his hand around the cube. Please don't be a six. He stuck his fist under Starsky's nose. "Blow for luck," he said.

Starsky blew across Hutch's clenched fist.

Hutch shook his hand. Please don't be a six, he willed again when he dropped the dice. He held his breath.

The dice skidded across the counter and stopped next to Huggy's arm. He picked it up, showing the number to the others. "Five. You lose, Hutch."

Three smiling faces stared at Hutch. "Damn," he said half-heartedly, resisting the urge to punch the air in celebration. "What do I have to do?"

"Go clean yourself up while the grown-ups talk," Starsky instructed.

Hutch stepped under a lukewarm shower, quickly washing his body. Turning off the jet of water, he snagged a towel, rubbing his skin dry and wrapping the damp towel around his waist.

He enjoyed these trysts with Huggy and Dryden. Lately, his and Starsky's home sex life had been pretty vanilla, or as vanilla as two guys could be. It wasn't that he didn't savor the intimacy of being alone with Starsky, Hutch just liked mixing things up more. He'd always been adventurous when it came to sex. Until he'd discovered bondage, he'd gone for the usual risks like making love where others might see him, threesomes; foursomes; and the occasional orgy in college. Thankfully, as it had turned out, Starsky didn't have an aversion to kinky sex. If he had, then Hutch would happily have foregone all others. He loved Starsky too much to jeopardize what they had for the quick thrills.

Hutch could hear mumbling through the door, but couldn't make out the words. He couldn't begin to guess the sort of game Starsky had in mind. Being Starsky's lover kept him on his toes even more than being Starsky's partner and best friend. 

He brushed his teeth. Looking in the mirror, he scrubbed at his almost non-existent stubble, smoothed his hand down his stretched neck, and scratched his chest. How long was he supposed to take getting ready? Starsky hadn't said. 

The chatter in the other room stopped. 

"You still alive in there?" Starsky shouted. "Come out, come out, wherever you are."

Hutch walked out of the bathroom with the towel still around his waist. He hadn't bothered to put his boxers back on. He didn't think they'd stay on very long anyway.

"Come over here," Starsky waved at Hutch. "I'll explain the game to you."

Hutch sat on the stool next to Starsky. "Okay, lay it on me." He gazed at the melee of items on the counter. 

"The game is called, huh, Hutchopoly. Session rules don't change. Your safeword stops play immediately."

Hutch nodded. That much he had assumed.

Huggy and Dryden were moving the couch from the center of the living room. Why they'd bothered to rearrange the room after the first play was a mystery. It was obvious that the evening's event was a foregone conclusion. Throwing a six was always harder when he needed one.

Huggy sat back with an enigmatic smile and Dryden listened quietly, stroking his chin.

Starsky continued. "The game has two halves. Players get one roll of the dice in each half. The number rolled decides what is done to you. Each turn lasts three minutes, not counting the roll."

Hutch picked up the dice. That small lump of plastic held his destiny for the next...he calculated the timing. Six throws at three minutes equals eighteen minutes. A possible two minutes between each throw, plus maybe three minutes between each part equals thirteen minutes. That made a total of thirty-one minutes. No time at all, compared to some of their sessions.

"The egg timer will start as soon as the player is ready. Read that." Starsky slipped a piece of paper in front of Hutch.

Hutch read the list slowly. It explained some of the stuff on the counter, but not all.

1\. nipple play  
2\. discipline  
3\. pain/pleasure  
4\. cock and ball torture  
5\. ass play  
6\. mouth play

"Any sex toys attached to or inserted into you will stay there until the end of the game, or the dice requires its removal. Any problem with that?" Starsky asked, resting his hand on Hutch's forearm.

Hutch thought for a second or two. "No." Although the list was pretty generic, he was sure that there nothing he hadn't already had done to him by all three guys. He had no doubt that Starsky had more input into the methods and rules of the game than the others.

"Good." Starsky seemed pleased by Hutch's acquiescence. "Stand up," he said, plucking Hutch's leather cuffs from the counter.

Hutch stood, allowing Starsky to lock a cuff around each wrist and ankle. The wrist cuffs were clipped together in front of Hutch with a length of chain. 

Starsky whipped the towel from around Hutch's waist. "You don't need that," he said, dropping it to the floor. "Follow me." He dragged Hutch by the chain across the room to where Huggy and Dryden were waiting. 

Hutch obediently followed Starsky to the center of the rug in front of the fire. He had already guessed that he was going to be suspended from the hook in the ceiling two feet from the fireplace. At least he wouldn't get cold with the fire burning in the grate. The hook had been carefully placed just the right distance from the full heat of the flames, close enough to warm the skin, but not to burn.

"Spread 'em," Huggy said, kneeling at Hutch's feet. "I've always wanted to say that to a cop," he joked, squinting up at Hutch.

Hutch poked his tongue out at Huggy, and did as he was told. It didn't matter who gave the orders in these sessions, he obeyed without question, but not without a small amount of attitude at appropriate times.

Huggy clipped the twenty two inch spreader bar to the ankle cuffs, before hauling Hutch's hands upwards. "How stretched do you want him, Starsky?"

Hutch swayed a little with his legs spread so widely apart. He shuffled his feet, resetting his center of balance to compensate. His muscles elongated as Huggy raised Hutch's arms. 

Dryden moved the remaining equipment from the kitchen counter to the coffee table, which he placed next to Hutch.

"That's enough," Starsky said. 

Hutch always marveled at how good Starsky was at spotting the first signs of strain on his face. Starsky seemed more aware of Hutch's limits than he was. Starsky would stop, where Hutch would always want to go that little further.

The tautness of Hutch's body was just right. He had that nice feeling he got when he stretched cramped muscles. His feet were barely flat to the floor. Another centimeter or so and he would have been on tiptoe. Endorphins kicked his euphoria up a notch. His penis was already hard, twitching in anticipation. Which numbers would be rolled? He wasn't really sure what to expect from the generic descriptions that Starsky had written on the play sheet. One thing he was certain of, it wouldn't be anything he couldn't handle or that would seriously hurt him.

Starsky placed the red egg timer on the mantelpiece. "Watch the sand falling, little lamb. Don't look at the players, and don't come." he told Hutch. "You can watch the roll of the dice, to make sure that we ain't cheating."

Hutch snickered. It would be pretty hard to see the dice from this position. "I trust you all implicitly. I know you would never do that." A statement that was very true. Starsky might cheat at some games, but not when Hutch's safety was involved. He wouldn't be in this predicament if he didn't have confidence in the integrity of his friends.

"Enough talk, let's get started," Dryden said gruffly, the dice clasped in his hand. "If little lamb is ready, of course," he added. His patience with Starsky and Hutch's banter was no better out of the office than in. He hated their smartass comments at his and I.A.'s expense.

"Roll it," Hutch said, indicating his readiness. Any other time, he and Starsky would mess around to further annoy Dryden. Now was not one of those times, mostly because Hutch was at his mercy. Hutch was itching to start the game. To see what the dice and his captors had in store for him. 

Dryden skimmed the dice across the floor. "Four." He picked up the leather cock and ball separator and knelt in front of Hutch, kneading his erection to its full length. 

Hutch drew in a breath, unable to take his eyes off of the I.A. boss' hand wrapped around his rod and the strap in his other hand. 

Dryden let go and slapped Hutch's penis hard. "Watch the sand," he repeated Starsky's words. Dryden was heavy handed at the best of times, even worse when he intended to be. 

Fuck. The unexpected pain ricocheted around Hutch's groin and up his torso. He snapped his focus to the trickling white sand in the egg timer. He didn't know which shocked him more, the harsh smack or the fact that Dryden was the one who delivered it. He absorbed the hurt hungrily. Starsky always said he was a pain addict. Damn, he loved it. 

Dryden smoothed his hand along Hutch's stinging member. His fingertips stroked the soft skin under Hutch's swollen head. "Now, be a good little lamb."

The gentle touch was like heaven on Hutch's tender cock, which throbbed from the slap and his arousal. 

Dryden fastened the hard leather straps around the base of Hutch's shaft and his balls, separating them into two golf balls. The contraption hitched his balls up, stretching the sac skin tightly. 

Hutch let out a breath. He had no objection to the way his family jewels were trussed up. He reveled in the confinement that signified his submission to the others. Suddenly, a heaviness tugged the whole ensemble downwards again. Cold metal nudged his inner thigh. A weight had been attached to one of the rings on the straps, not a heavy one, but, from experience, Hutch was all too aware that time makes them feel heavier. 

"It's a four ounce weight," Dryden said. He gave it a swift tug. 

Gasping from the pain, Hutch shivered with pleasure. This game was shaping up to be far more interesting than he'd thought it would. Dryden and Huggy, especially Dryden, were normally fairly genteel in their play. Definitely not into the rough sessions that Hutch and Starsky indulged in when they were alone. Yet Dryden was starting with moves that he'd never done before. Not on Hutch anyway. Who knew what Dryden and Steve used to get up to.

"What do we have here?" Dryden tsked. He swiped his finger across Hutch's slit, rubbing pre-cum around Hutch's crown. "Oh, little lamb likes his daddy to be cruel, does he?" He slipped his not so little finger inside the narrow opening.

What the? Dryden had never said anything like that to Hutch before. Tonight was definitely a time for eye openers. His cock twitched when Dryden's nail caught his sensitive inner flesh. Hutch kept his eyes locked to the falling sand. The bottom half of the hour glass was two thirds full. Hutch couldn't quite figure out if the sand was falling more quickly than he wanted, or slower than he expected.

"Answer the question," Starsky commanded, tapping his nails on the wooden mantle next to the egg timer.

"Yes, Sir," Hutch answered Dryden's question. He always called Dryden and Huggy Sir. Master was reserved for Starsky only. 

"Time's almost up," Starsky said. 

Dryden blew onto Hutch's wet tip. Dryden's breath was chilly on Hutch's flame and blood warmed penis. "Can't have this dripping everywhere, now can we?" 

A cold, metal ring slid over Hutch's head, nestling just underneath the mushroom top. At the same time, something the size of a basketball rammed into his slit. Okay, so it wasn't that big, but it sure felt like it. Without looking, Hutch knew it was the Cum Stopper Glans Ring that they'd recently purchased. As his urethra adjusted to the invader, he welcomed another indication of his loss of control. Even if he was able to orgasm, his cum had no way of exiting his body. His gut clenched with joy as this further enforced his slavery. Of course, he could end everything with his safe word. He smiled. Never in a million years.

"Huggy, your turn, my man," Starsky said jovially.

Huggy tossed the dice. "One." He advanced on Hutch with a huge, toothy grin on his face. "Come to papa," he said.

Hutch rolled his eyes. What was with the references to father figures this evening? He saw Starsky's smirk. Mind games flashed into his head. That was it! Mix up the activities, change the dialogue, throw him off balance mentally and physically.

Starsky banged the timer on the mantle, starting the countdown once again.

Hutch immediately snapped his eyes to the grains beginning their descent. 

Huggy caressed Hutch's chest, licking, biting, twisting, tweaking and sucking on his nipples. His mouth and fingers shifted rapidly between the nubs. Huggy's moans vibrated against Hutch's chest so deeply that it felt like they were coming from inside him and not from Huggy's mouth . 

Hutch writhed under the onslaught. He couldn't tell which nub Huggy had in his mouth, and which was being subjected to Huggy's fingers. The crescendo built up under Huggy's expert manipulations. Hutch's muscles constricted, his nipples joining into one big mass of pleasure and pain. His groin stirred, wanting in on the proceedings. 

Huggy snaked his arm around Hutch's waist, holding him still. 

"Time's almost up." Starsky's voice bit into Hutch's fuzzy brain.

Huggy stopped as quickly as he had started. 

"Oh, fuck," Hutch yelled when pain shot through his torso. "I'm having a heart attack," he wailed. He dropped his head to his chest. "Nipple clamps!" Thank the Lord. Huggy must have popped them on simultaneously. Hutch now knew that was what the one searing pain had been. 

"Sorry, man," Huggy said. "Didn't think you'd react like that." He looked upset at Hutch's very obvious discomfort.

Starsky was by Hutch's side in a flash. "You okay, Hutch?" he asked concerned. "You want to stop?"

Hutch laughed. "Hell, no. It was just a shock. One minute I'm riding the wave of ecstasy, then bam." Now he was sure that he wasn't gonna die, he was more than happy to continue. "Why don't you finish what you started, Hug?"

"You know what I do when you try to top," Starsky warned.

Huggy grabbed the chain hanging from the clamps, snagging the clip onto the Cum Stopper stem. "We'll just shorten the chain a little," he said, turning the links against each other and using the clip to secure them. 

The shorter chain stretched Hutch's nipples slightly and pulled his cock tip towards his belly. The weight countered his privates in the opposite direction. The combination supercharged Hutch's nerve endings, his buds burning with the pinching clamps. His pain/pleasure ratio crept up the Richter scale a point or two. He twisted his torso to heighten the ache, throwing his head back and sighing. Yes, yes.

"Pain slut," Starsky whispered in Hutch's ear. "My sexy pain slut."

"Yes, Master," Hutch agreed, and not because he had to. He truly was a slut in every sense of the word, pain or otherwise. 

"My turn." Starsky dropped the dice. "Five." He leered at Hutch. "Beware, my pretty one," he said menacingly, rubbing his hands together. 

Hutch automatically flicked his eyes to the fireplace. His buttocks clenched together in anticipation.

Huggy manned the timer, turning it over to set the white stuff in motion. 

Starsky circled Hutch, lube in hand. He took great delight in coating the fingers of his left hand in full view of his prey, raising his arms so that Hutch didn't have to move his head to see what Starsky was doing. "I'm gonna make you beg, little lamb."

Unlike the others, Starsky didn't believe in playing games without psyching up his opponent first. His words were chosen carefully to either make the other person talk too much, or invent scenarios in their mind that might, or might not, happen.

Even aware of this fact, Hutch always rose to the bait. However, he resolved not to give Starsky the satisfaction of hearing him beg. "Never," he challenged. He pushed aside the rule of not disrespecting his Master in the group session for the moment. 

Starsky parted Hutch's ass cheeks and probed Hutch's closed sphincter with his fingers, teasing his puckered skin. 

Hutch arched his back, pressing into Starsky's touch. 

"Oh no, you don't," Starsky said, withdrawing his fingers. "I'm in control, remember?" He slapped Hutch's cheeks in perfect synchronization. 

The impact of both hands hitting his buttocks from below forced Hutch onto the balls of his feet. He moaned, relishing the tingling sensation from the smack. "More," he rasped.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Starsky's voice drawled back. "Begging already," he stated. 

"That wasn't a beg. It was a request," Hutch shot back. Damn. Starsky could get under his skin quicker than anyone Hutch had ever known.

Starsky's fingers breached Hutch's ring in one smooth movement, stretching and stroking his canal walls. 

Hutch started at the lightening bolt pinging through his body as Starsky swept his fingers across Hutch's prostate. He jerked in his bonds like a puppet on a string. God, oh, God. His prostate zinged, his genitals and his nipples screamed with every tug of the chain and swing of the weight. He climbed further up the pleasure ladder.

Starsky's fingers slipped out of Hutch's ass. 

Before Hutch had the chance to protest, Starsky placed a big butt plug into his opening. It was one of the larger ones they owned, the wide girth straining Hutch's anus. The thick tip dug into his rectum. Every time he moved, the plug grazed his prostate and poked him relentlessly. His world narrowed to the delicious torture of his ass, nipples, penis and balls. Grabbing the chain holding his wrists to steady himself, he rode the wave right to its...

brick wall. Fuck, fuck, fuck. His orgasm halted at the pinnacle, the leather straps somehow keeping him totally in check. He was like the scared guy on the high diving platform. He couldn't jump off and he couldn't climb back down. His legs started to shake from the build up of pressure. "Please," he blurted out before he could stop himself, his vision blurring with the intensity of his desire. 

Starsky laughed and ignored the plea. "Drink this," he said, pushing a straw into Hutch's mouth and wiping the sweat from his brow with a damp cloth. 

Hutch obeyed the command and sucked, swishing the liquid around his mouth, then swallowing. The coolness of the cloth felt good on his heated forehead. His desperate need to orgasm dulled a little, just enough to be bearable rather than frustrating as hell. 

"Five minutes," Starsky said, holding up the digits on his left hand. He moved out of Hutch's sight.

The clinking of glasses and running water behind Hutch indicated the start of a break for his friends and a chance for Hutch to compose himself. Positioned as he was, he would have to twist very uncomfortably to see what was happening in the kitchen, and he hadn't been given permission to interact with his Doms. Deep, raucous laughter filled Hutch's ears. He latched onto the sound of Starsky's guffaw. What had started the joviality, Hutch didn't know. 

Another of Starsky's control tricks was to make Hutch think that he was missing out on the latest joke. That was one of the reasons Starsky often took a break in the middle of play. Having his Doms ignore him turned Hutch into an insignificant ornament for a short period. It worked every time. Making the sub crave contact that he couldn't have. Even though Hutch was aware of what Starsky was doing, being restrained and left alone was very disconcerting, especially when his Master was close, but out of sight. Starsky was the king of keeping Hutch on the edge, mentally and physically.

One thing that Hutch was certain of was that the laughter was in no way about him. His playmates wouldn't be disrespectful. Hutch had been a Dom in some of their sessions, times when he hadn't been physically up to the rigors of being a sub for whatever reason, and had participated in the little chat breaks. 

On those occasions, Huggy and Starsky had switched, rather than cancel the rare opportunities of their schedules coinciding. 

Hutch snickered. Or rather Starsky had switched one time. He had hated every minute of it, from the confinement to the frustration of someone else owning his body. And being denied his orgasm had turned him into the Incredible Hulk. He'd even said that he'd never deprive Hutch release again. That's when the seed had been planted in Hutch's brain about handing Starsky his chastity. Hutch had informed Starsky that he wanted him in charge of his orgasm full time. 

Dryden had said from the start that he was a top and didn't bottom for anybody. 

That left Huggy, who happily bottomed whenever the need arose. With Hutch's previous experience of dominating Huggy, Hutch was the Master Dom on the Hug sub.

Hot breath warmed Hutch's cheek. "Earth to Hutch," Starsky whispered in his ear. "Time out is over, little lamb."

Hutch leaned toward the sound of Starsky's voice. He saw Dryden roll the dice in his peripheral vision. 

"Six," bellowed Dryden, frowning at the dice. 

Hutch had to smother a snicker. Mouth play, this should be interesting. Kissing was another of Dryden's self-imposed don't do rules. Sometimes, Hutch wondered what Dryden actually got from their dalliances. Whatever it was, it seemed to work for him on some subliminal level, so it wasn't for Hutch to judge Dryden's reasoning.

Dryden disappeared from Hutch's line of sight. He returned and stood in front of Hutch peeling a banana. A very large banana, both in length and thickness. 

Starsky had done the shopping for this trip and he had a habit of buying the biggest bananas that he could find.

Hutch raised his eyebrows. Surely Dryden wasn't planning to do the first thing that had come into Hutch's head when he saw the fruit?

Dyden shoved the half-peeled banana into Hutch's mouth, the tip at the back of his throat. 

Yes, they were both on the same page. Hutch reined in his gag reflex, locking his lips around the soft fruit, making sure his teeth didn't touch the flesh. 

Dryden slowly drew the banana out of Hutch's mouth, leaving the tip resting against his teeth. He started a steady in and out rhythm, fucking Hutch's mouth with the sweet fruit. "Suck it," he instructed.

Hutch sucked the banana the way he would suck a penis, bobbing his head back and forth, matching Dryden stroke for stroke. He curled his tongue around the end, flicking the tip like a crown. He must have looked like a rookie perfecting his oral technique before trying it out on a man. The irony wasn't lost on Hutch. He should have felt ridiculous, but it was absurdly erotic. His ever hardening erection obviously agreed. His balls were so heavy from the combination of being denied his orgasm and the metal weight swinging freely from his genitals. He desperately needed relief. However, he knew that satisfaction was a long way off yet. Definitely not until the end of the game, at least another seven minutes by his math.

Dryden slowed his speed and pulled the fruit partway out of Hutch's mouth, and said, "Bite off the end of the banana, chew it slowly and swallow." 

"What?" Hutch asked around the obstruction in his mouth.

"You heard," Dryden growled. "Bite off the end, chew slowly and swallow," he said again, adding, "Imagine that you are swallowing my semen."

Hutch sank his teeth into the slightly unripe banana and chewed the flesh slowly to a pulp. When the mass was mushy enough for his liking, he leaned his head backward so that the others could see his Adams apple and swallowed loudly for emphasis.

Starsky groaned. "Oh, God. I will never look at a banana the same again," he said, licking his lips.

Hutch looked at the remaining food in Dryden's hand. An inch or so of white protruded from the folds of the yellow skin. Pools of spittle had collected inside the rim of the skin. Neither will I. 

"My turn," Huggy announced. 

Hutch looked at the egg timer. He hadn't realized that the sand had finished falling, and by the expression on Starsky's face and the bulge in his pants, neither had he. 

"Three."

Hutch struggled to remember what number three on the list had been. Oh, yes, pain/pleasure. So far, each shake had resulted in a different number. If he hadn't been watching the throw of the dice and knew that it was the standard one out of the Monopoly game, he would swear that the dice was loaded somehow to prevent a number being repeated. He wasn't even sure that that was possible, surely that would require six separate dice. 

His only concern was to be the toy in this particular game and get to the end without using his safeword. He had pretty much gotten used to the nipple clamps, the weight and the plug, he was only really aware of their presence when he moved a lot. Thankfully, no one had been evil enough to keep tugging at the chains connected to the clamps. Removal of them would be a different matter. The rush of blood back into his body was an unavoidable discomfort for a short spell. 

"What should I use?" Huggy teased as he rummaged through the few items still on the coffee table.

Hutch couldn't see much left that would cause pain/pleasure. Just about every pain giving implement had already been used on him except for the multi strand whip and he assumed that was for number two. It was Hutch's favorite discipline tool, a mixture of good and bad. The soft suede strands trailing gently over his skin were nice. The thud of the strands lashing across his back was slightly evil. He shuddered in anticipation, longing to feel the tails striking him.

Huggy picked up the whip and walked behind Hutch.

Hutch tensed, waiting for the first blow. Time seemed to stand still as he breathed in and out, readying his body to absorb the lashes when they came. He need the sting of the fronds deep in his very soul. He could barely make out the movement of the sand in the hourglass. 

Huggy was breathing heavily behind Hutch. The sound was getting louder in Hutch's ears.

Hutch keened at the first striping on his back. The slash was cold, solid, almost sticking to his skin. What the hell? That wasn't the flogger. He jerked forward at the second stroke. 

"Don't move," ordered Huggy.

Hutch tried to hold still as lines crisscrossed his back. Cold, very cold lines drawn up and down his spine, across his shoulders blades, liquid snaking its way down to the small of his back, into his butt crack. Suddenly, everything clicked into place. Ice or one of Starsky's popsicles. Hutch couldn't be sure which.He knew Starsky had stocked the fridge with both. He shivered, the coldness gradually sucking the warmth of the fire and his arousal out of his body, cooling him down way more than he wanted. 

"How does that feel, little lamb?" Huggy asked quietly. 

"Cold," Hutch said. "Very cold." He jerked against his bonds when the ice traced up his inner right thigh and skimmed along his perineum. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He danced on the end of his chain.

Huggy dropped the cube to the floor and licked Hutch's back. His hot tongue gradually warmed Hutch's frozen skin.

Hutch held his breath as Huggy worked his tongue over every inch of flesh that he had just touched, back, inner thigh and...

"Time's up," Starsky said.

"No," Hutch whined. Between his legs was still feeling the effects of the ice cube, he needed heat to resurrect his deflating erection. 

Starsky stood in front of Hutch, staring deep into his eyes. "Pain and pleasure, boy," he said. "My turn," he added menacingly.

Hutch moaned. The look in Starsky's eyes heated his passion far quicker than a quick flick of hot tongue. 

Starsky rolled the dice.

Hutch watched the tumbling square. Number two, number two, he willed. Huggy had teased him with the flogger and given him ice. That was different sort of pain, cold rather than heat. Hutch desperately wanted Starsky to discipline him, needed Starsky to leave his mark on Hutch's body. Although, they would be working in two days time, which meant that Starsky wouldn't whip him too hard. Right now, Hutch would take whatever he could get. Starsky never truly understood why Hutch wanted him to beat up on him. However, he indulged Hutch because Hutch got off on the pain. 

"Five." Starsky smiled at Hutch, pulling his lips back into the wide grin that revealed all of Starsky's upper teeth. The Cheshire Cat grin that melted Hutch to mush every time.

Damn, damn, damn. Much as Hutch liked Starsky playing with or in his ass, he was disappointed, almost devastated at the chance of a flogging being wrenched away from him again. He swore that this time Starsky must have a loaded dice. Starsky wasn't adverse to cheating to get his own way or to thwart Hutch from winning.

Starsky grasped Hutch's fleshy mounds and squeezed hard, digging his nails in relentlessly.

Hutch hitched in a breath, his butt aching where Starsky's nails gouged into him. "Harder, harder," he hissed, his cock twitching with excitement at the rough treatment. That was one of the things he liked about a relationship with a man. Men played harder than women did. 

"You'd like that, wouldn't you, Blintz?" Starsky said. He grabbed Hutch's hair with one hand, pulled his head sideways and bit his jugular. For a man scared of vampires, Starsky had a penchant for biting Hutch's neck and pretty much any other part of his body, but especially his neck.

"Fuck, yeah," Hutch said, totally ignoring his place in the pecking order at that very moment. All he cared about was his own satisfaction. The day of play, and this game in particular, had left Hutch so wired and needy, far more than their foursomes usually did. 

"Wrong answer," Starsky said, his tone steely cold. "Who's the boss here?" He tugged harder on Hutch's hair.

Hutch resisted Starsky's domination, determined to force his Master into discipline mode. "Me," he challenged, yanking his head away from Starsky's hand. His hair roots protested the sudden pressure; he'd probably lost some hair in this battle, but that wasn't an utmost concern in his mind. 

Starsky glared at Hutch. "Little lamb thinks he's in driving seat."

Laughter rang in Hutch's ears. Of course, Hutch was in charge here. Unfortunately, his control was to stop the play with his safeword, not dictate how the session went to meet his own criteria. 

Starsky dug the nails of his free hand in Hutch's ass again, wiggling his fingers so that the nails scratched as they dug. "Someone needs to remember his position."

Hutch's brain fuzzed at the hike in pain coming from his butt and his screaming hair follicles. "God. Oh, God. Yes, Yes," he said through clenched teeth, the harshness of Starsky's handling slowly fulfilling his yearning.

"Hug, come here." Starsky's voice echoed in Hutch's ear. Starsky maintained his hold on Hutch's hair and ass cheek. 

Huggy walked over to Starsky, bowing his head so that Starsky could whisper in his ear.

Hutch didn't hear what was said, and Huggy disappeared from his view for a couple of seconds. Coming back, he handed something to Starsky and sat on the couch a few feet away.

"Dryden, pull that off his penis."

Dryden eased the ball out of Hutch's slit with a pop and prized the ring over the ballooning head. Then he sat next to Huggy on the couch. 

Pre-cum caught behind the ball oozed out and dripped onto the floor. Hutch's erection decreased with the loss of the liquid. 

Starsky reached around and simultaneously jerked the chains on the nipple clamps and ball weight. "Want me to bust your balls, do you? Show you who has the power, boy?"

"Aaahhh." Hutch bucked against the delicious agony. "Yes, Master."

"Beg," Starsky commanded, plucking at the chains again.

Myriad colored dots clouded Hutch's vision. His brain focused on the excruciating ache in his genitals and nipples. "Please, Master. Please."

Starsky jabbed the butt plug into Hutch's upper sphincter, then wrenched it out of his hole, replacing it immediately with his fingers. 

"Oooohh." Hutch would have come then and there had it not been for the damn cock and ball straps. "Take the straps off, please."

Starsky's finger scrubbed at Hutch's prostate.

Teetering on the edge of heaven, Hutch felt the familiar seeping of semen. Gradually he realized that although his cock was indeed running like a tap and his orgasm receding, he wasn't experiencing the euphoria of release. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Starsky was milking him, relieving his load without the enjoyment. "Bastard," he ground out, while admiring Starsky's show of strength by not giving in to Hutch as easily as he used to. 

Starsky might be teaching Hutch that he had to lower his limits or he might get badly hurt, but Hutch was also pushing Starsky's cautious limits closer to his own. One day, they would find the perfect balance for them both. Hutch would say they were very close to reaching that middle road.

"Having fun," Starsky mocked, circling around Hutch to kneel down in front of him. He loosened the leather straps on Hutch's genitals, dropping them to the floor. He forced Hutch's balls through a hard ring.

Hutch looked down at Starsky's hands, recognizing the clear plastic contraption lying on the floor and the ring Starsky was shoving his flaccid penis through--the chastity device that Hutch had given Starsky for his birthday, along with his consent to full chastity. It was the biggest that he'd been able to find.

Once Starsky had tried various of combinations of the rings and spacers that came with the kit and sanded the posts down to the correct length, it was perfectly sized to enslave Hutch's relaxed penis. With the plastic ring sitting snuggly against Hutch's groin, Starsky expertly inserted the spacers and posts, and attached the cock cage, securing the whole thing with the small metal padlock. This was the part that turned Hutch on the most; Starsky snapping a lock on his family jewels. Once locked in, he had no way of getting the contraption off, and Starsky held both keys. If Hutch tried really hard, he could probably snap the posts, and even orgasm, but he didn't want to. When the device was tightly secured to his groin, his mindset changed and he wanted Starsky to release him. To free himself was breaking the law and the trust that Starsky put in him by accepting and implementing Hutch's gift.

"You can get him down now," Starsky said to Huggy and Dryden, as he ripped the nipple clamps off of Hutch's chest.

"Fuck, Starsky," Hutch shouted when the pegs finally slipped off of his stretched nubs. He panted through the throbbing in his nipples as the blood rushed back. That hurt was replaced by the spasming in his arm muscles when Huggy lowered Hutch's cuffed hands. A tap on his calf drew his attention. Looking down, he saw that Dryden had unclipped his ankles from the spreader bar. Closing his legs caused less discomfort than the other releases had, but he struggled to stand as his muscles suddenly turned to jelly from the prolonged stance. 

Starsky and Huggy supported Hutch's weight during the short walk to the bedroom, lowering him gently onto the bed. 

Hutch slumped wearily into the pillows. "That was some major shit, simple but effective" he said, smiling at Starsky and Huggy. Even being denied his orgasm, or maybe because of that coupled with the rest of the session, he'd reached that plateau of sexual gratification. "Pure genius using the dice to build up the suspense." He gazed up at Starsky. "And I thought I was the brains in this partnership," he joked.

"I have my moments," Starsky said, winking at Huggy and lying next to Hutch on the bed. 

"I'll go and give Dryden a hand with the sleeping quarters," Huggy said, leaving Starsky and Hutch alone.

"And beautiful moments they are," Hutch said huskily. He lay quietly, allowing Starsky to massage life back into his stiff joints, and listening to the sound of moving furniture in the living room.

Starsky kissed and licked Hutch's abused nipples. "I love you," Starsky whispered against Hutch's chest. "You were good tonight, little one. You made your Master proud."

Hutch winced a little at the tenderness in his nipples, but a slight discomfort was worth it to have Starsky's warm mouth on his buds. He basked in his Master's praise and a glow ignited deep inside. He sighed, content with his lot in life. His eyelids slowly closed of their own accord. He forced them open again, he did not want this evening to end just yet. He might not be going to orgasm tonight, but he'd make sure that Starsky did.

Huggy peeked his head around the door jam. "Me and the big guy are going to retire for the night. We're planning to leave around six a.m. You guys gonna be in The Pits tomorrow sometime?" 

"We might come in for a beer or two," Starsky said, his left hand stroking Hutch's stomach and his right carding through Hutch's hair.

"Night, Hug," was the best that Hutch could manage. He was too tired and drained for social pleasantries. Starsky's gentle caresses were relaxing him far too much. 

"Business as usual on Monday," Dryden shouted gruffly through the open door from wherever he was in the main room of the cabin.

"Yes, Laverne," Starsky said, getting up and closing the door behind Huggy.

Hutch grinned. "Fun over, Dryden's back to his usual self." He turned onto his side and watched Starsky.

Starsky stripped off his clothes and sidled up behind Hutch snaking his arm around Hutch's waist and pulling him closer into his body. 

Hutch shuffled back into Starsky's embrace, wiggling his butt into Starsky's groin until his penis nestled in Hutch's crack. He'd given up on the idea of giving Starsky an orgasm, he just didn't have the energy for anything but sleep. "Love you, Starsk."

Starsky fondled Hutch's plastic cock cage. "You know this is staying on until Monday, don't you?" His voice had an amused tone mixed in with his Masterful speech. "I keep telling you not to top from the bottom."

Hutch shuddered, the words causing a stirring in his groin. "Yes, Master." He bucked forward into Starsky's hand, even though he couldn't feel anything through the device. "I'm sorry," he attempted without much sincerity. How could he be sorry for something he meant to do? Goading Starsky into disciplining him was part of the fun.

"Not convincing enough," Starsky tugged at Hutch's public hairs. "Go to sleep." He kissed the back of Hutch's head. 

Hutch yawned. "Night." He closed his eyes, letting his lover's breathing lull him into sleep.

^^^

Sunday, May 10, 1981

Hutch awoke to light streaming through the open slats of the window shutters. At some time in the night, Starsky had turned over and now had his back to Hutch. He slid carefully out of the bed and walked into the other room. 

The living room was empty. The clock on the mantle said it was three minutes after nine. Hutch hadn't slept this late in ages. He assumed that Dryden and Huggy had left when they said they would, because he hadn't heard a thing. He had been seriously zonked last night.

After relieving his overly full bladder, Hutch walked into the kitchen, ignoring the dirty dishes from dinner. Tying an apron around his middle, he made a fresh pot of coffee and stuck it on the burner to boil while he made scrambled eggs and toast. He put two slices of toast covered with eggs on a plate for Starsky and one slice with eggs for himself. Placing both plates on a tray he added a cup of black coffee for him and creamy, sugary coffee for Starsky. 

Carrying the tray into the bedroom, he stood next to his sleeping partner. "Hey, Starsk. Wake up. Breakfast is ready," he said in the loudest, most cheerful voice he could muster.

Starsky jumped, opening first one eye and then the other. He groaned and blinked against the light. "Jeez." He sat up and leaned groggily against the headboard.

Hutch plunked the tray on Starsky's knees and sat next to him grinning. "Beautiful morning," he said.

Starsky glared at him. "How can you be so bright eyed and bushy tailed after what we put you through yesterday? I feel like a piece of shit." He scrubbed at his eyes. 

Hutch handed him a mug. "Because you're not a morning person, darling. Drink this."

Starsky gulped at the coffee Hutch gave him. "Mmmm, sweet."

"I thought you might need the extra sugar to get you going." He picked up his toast, carefully balancing the eggs on top and ate half the slice. "Eat your eggs before they get cold." For once, he'd finished his food before Starsky was half way through his. He sipped at his coffee, waiting for Starsky to eat every bit. Standing up, he leaned over and kissed Starsky on his lips. 

Starsky returned the kiss. Pulling away, he said, "Thank you. You make the best scrambled eggs ever."

Hutch nodded. "You shower, and I'll clean up the mess in the kitchen that you kindly left for me last night." He grinned as he said this. He truly didn't mind the different ways that Starsky used to assert the control that Hutch handed over to him in every session. Kitchen duty wasn't high on Hutch's priorities, so it made sense to use that as a sort of punishment for disobedience in their foursomes. Nothing Hutch did in those plays was added to his black marks in their private play. He grabbed the tray off of Starsky's thighs and turned to walk into the kitchen.

"I'll bet you've made even more of a mess making breakfast," Starsky said, feigning sarcasm. He yanked at the apron strings. "Don't wear this to tidy up," he said, unfastening the bow. "I like my slaves naked."

The apron pooled around Hutch's feet. He stepped over it and turned to face Starsky. Holding the tray at chest height, he thrust his hips back and forth. His imprisoned genitals bobbed in front of Starsky's nose. 

Starsky moaned. "Tease all you want, blondie. It stays on."

"I wouldn't want it any other way. Just showing you what you are missing," Hutch answered matter of fact. He twirled on his heel and walked to the door. "How's your morning wood?" he asked as he walked through the living room.

"At least I can get an erection," Starsky shot back from the bedroom.

"Touché," Hutch said, happy to let Starsky score points off his encased crotch. He put the tray on the counter. He reached for the tap to fill up the sink just as the shower started to run. Damn, now he would have to wait or Starsky would end up with a cold shower. That was the only problem with the cabin. The plumbing was arranged in a way that meant the shower got too hot or cold if the taps were turned on or the toilet flushed. They really needed to get that fixed. 

He turned to the island block separating the kitchen and the living room. Might as well start clearing the counte first. He eyed the bondage paraphernalia and the Monopoly game that they had used last night. Huggy or Dryden must have moved them there when they put the furniture back into place.

Hutch absentmindedly picked up the dice and rolled it along the counter. It landed with a deuce. "Now you give me a two," he bellowed in frustration at the stilled dice. 

"What?" Starsky responded from the bathroom.

"Nothing," Hutch said, fingering the handle of the flogger. He rubbed his hand over his face. Glancing over his shoulder at the dishes stacked in the sink, he twisted his lips into a smirk. Time for a little more manipulation. He grabbed the flogger and knelt on the hard wood floor halfway between the kitchen and the bathroom. Sitting up on his heels, he arranged the whip on his upturned palms at shoulder level, presenting his chosen implement to his Master.

"You done out here yet?" Starsky asked, coming out of the bathroom rubbing his hair with a white towel. He almost fell over Hutch. Starsky stopped and stared down at Hutch blocking his path. "What's this, little one?" he asked, gesturing to Hutch's presence. 

"I rolled a two," Hutch said, raising his offering higher in the air.

"So? You had your roll last night," Starsky said, twitching his lips in an attempt to keep the grin off his face. 

"I disobeyed you in the bedroom, before our play," Hutch said, starting a list of misdemeanors in his head.

"I slapped your butt for that," Starsky countered.

"I tried to top from the bottom in front of our friends," Hutch said, crossing the first item off of his mental list.

"I denied your orgasm and locked you up for that," Starsky said, immediately shooting that argument out of the water. He pointed at the plastic cage sitting on Hutch's inner thighs.

"I haven't done the chores you set me," Hutch announced triumphantly, hitting Starsky with the one statement that he couldn't refute. Hutch's arms were starting to ache from holding up the flogger for so long. It wasn't that the thing was heavy, far from it, but he wasn't used to holding his arms at shoulder height for so long. 

Starsky circled around him and looked at the sink. "So I see." He walked back around Hutch. "You're not going to give up, are you?"

Hutch shook his head. "No."

Starsky scowled. "Hutch, I can't. We're working tomorrow. You can't work if you're hurting."

"That's just it," Hutch said, jumping all over Starsky's reasoning. "I can. We're not out on the streets. We've got the meeting with Dobey in the morning, and the Lazlo case discussion and deposition with the DA will probably take up the rest of the day." 

Starsky shot Hutch a look of sheer exasperation.

Hutch raised his eyebrows. "Dobey told me that he'd scheduled Hawkins and Church to cover our beat for the whole shift." He nudged Starsky in the belly with his middle fingertips. "Please," he begged, trying his most appealing expression.

"I can't believe that you beg to be beaten." Starsky's face softened. "You are seriously sick, Hutchinson," he said affectionately.

"I know," Hutch said. "But only by you." Neither he nor Starsky had realized just how warped Hutch's inner needs were when they embarked on this alternative lifestyle. Apart from being peed or pooped on, Hutch couldn't think of anything that he considered a hard limit, not when Starsky was wielding the control anyway. He was sure there must be some, they just hadn't discovered them yet. In many ways, it helped Hutch understand how he'd withstood the many beatings, restraints, incarcerations and injuries that had been inflicted on him over his years of active duty. He recognized that his high threshold of pain and tolerance when immobilized meant he panicked less than most human beings. Therefore, he could withstand longer periods of whatever was dished out to him while he worked on the best way out of the situation.

Starsky, on the other hand, while being able to cope just as well with the beatings, was more of a bull in a china shop type when it came to fighting his way out of any predicament he found himself in.

"Please," Hutch begged again, tilting his head to one side so that his neck was stretched exactly the way Starsky liked. 

"I don't know, buddy," Starsky said, a little hesitantly, openly leering at the wanton way Hutch was showcasing himself to his Master.

Hutch sensed that Starsky's defenses were starting to crumble. What Hutch wanted from Starsky, he generally got if he persisted long enough. And vice versa. He'd do anything Starsky desired.

Starsky took the flogger from Hutch's outstretched hands. "I suppose I could give you a maintenance flogging."

Hutch scowled. That barely touched the surface of what he yearned for. But, if that was all he was going to get, it would have to do. 

"It's that or nothing," Starsky said sternly.

"Sorry, Master," Hutch apologized sincerely. He'd worked too hard this morning to lose the compromise he'd negotiated. Correction, manipulated from Starsky.

"Stand up and face the wall, boy."

Hutch scrambled up from his knees, ignoring the pins and needles that attacked his feet and ankles, and did as Starsky ordered.

"Palms flat on the surface and assume the position," Starsky continued.

Hutch leaned forward and placed his palms on the wall, locking his elbows. He spread his legs and stuck out his butt in the regulation stance, as if he were a suspect being searched by the cops.

"Look at the floor," commanded Starsky.

Hutch relaxed his head, chin on his chest.

Starsky brushed the soft fronds of the flogger up and down the length of Hutch's back and over his buttocks. 

Hutch quivered as the suede strands tickled his skin. He breathed slowly, waiting for Starsky to change his pace. The first strikes hit Hutch's shoulders and ass cheeks with soft thuds. Starsky steadily increased his pace, each strike landing harder.. 

Starsky kept up the measured blows until Hutch's back and buttocks started to burn. At that point, Starsky stopped and lightly rubbed at Hutch's warm skin.

Hutch imagined that his shoulder blades and fleshy mounds were probably a nice shade of dark pink. 

In their first discipline sessions, Starsky had honed his technique to a particular swing and never administered more than ten strokes in a session. 

Starsky had just given Hutch six strokes. He would feel twinges when he moved tomorrow, but it wouldn't be too uncomfortable to bear. He liked the aftermath, it reminded him of the lengths that Starsky would go to to make Hutch happy.

"Clear up this mess while I load the car," Starsky said, breaking contact. "And put your shorts on just in case anyone comes by."

"Yes, Master. Thank you, Master," Hutch said, pushing himself upright. He hitched a breath as his abused skin tightened some when he moved and grinned. 

Starsky spun Hutch around to face him. "It melts my heart when you smile like that," he said. 

Hutch gathered Starsky into a bear hug. "Thank you," he said again.

Starsky laughed. "You already thanked me once."

"No. I thanked my Master because it's the correct protocol." Hutch looked into Starsky's eyes. "Now I'm thanking my lover for indulging my whim."

Starsky slapped Hutch's butt. "Get on with your work, serf," he said, heading for the bedroom.

Hutch sighed at the delicious sting in his right ass cheek. He was looking forward to sitting in the Tomato and bouncing over the ruts chiseled into the dirt road leading to their cabin. He could feel the bumps on his tender flesh already.

^^^


End file.
